When Mr. She laid her hand upon his arm. It was a face that matched her body, so pure and beautiful that any man would have killed for her. Businesswomen in pointy-toed shoes swooned coyly in his direction, tipping their noses over their glossy magazines to admire 273 him. Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years.
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